The Strongman
20
The Climax
I’D HAD THE SECOND HIGHEST score in floor exercises during qualification and the highest score in floor during the team finals. I had a floor element with an extremely high difficulty factor (H) in my routine. It was a back double pike salto with a one-and-a-half out. It came on my fifth line. The men’s floor exercise comprises six tumbling lines, plus one strength exercise. My strength exercise was slated between the fifth and sixth passes.
Tuesday night finally arrived and I was ready for my floor exercise. My heart was racing. I’d received a silver medal as part of the team all-around, but had failed to qualify for the individual all-around, and had finished just out of the medals in high bar and vault. I had the highest floor exercise score in the games so far and I knew no one had as high a difficulty score as I had in the event. All I had to do was my best, and none of the others could touch me. Coach DiCello laid a hand on my shoulder before I approached the mat.
“Breathe,” she said calmly. Yeah, right. I gulped in a lungful of air and headed to the floor.
When I stepped up to the mat to await the green light, I had adrenaline pumping through me like I’d never experienced before. My heart was racing. This was it. My best event and my shot at an Olympic Gold Medal. There was a tone and my seventy seconds of fame began. I stepped back on my first pass landing which was a deduction of 0.100. The second pass stuck perfectly and I took a deep breath to begin my third pass.
I don’t remember my third and fourth lines. I think they were perfect. The fifth was where things took a slight deviation from my tariff sheet, submitted before the event. It was my highest difficulty pass, featuring the double salto in pike position with a one-and-a-half out that I’d practiced daily with Coach DiCello. I started the pass and did a forward layout salto with a half twist which gave me exactly the bounce I needed to launch the back double.
I guess that’s where the adrenaline proved too much. I realized about halfway through the second salto that I was over rotating. My first thought was to save my neck and I immediately snapped open and threw my hands out above my head.
In practices, I’d often landed jumps on my hands. I’d never used one in a competition, though. The rules outlawed all moves that landed on the hands with a roll-out.
By some miracle, I stuck the landing on my hands. I went from that, directly to my strength exercise, holding myself on my hands, and doing the splits, then moving directly into a flair with a spindle and roll-out. The final tone indicating ten seconds remaining in my time sounded and I had to hurry into position and start my final line. I stuck it, and all-told, I felt I’d done a great exercise. I stepped off the floor after acknowledging the judges and Coach DiCello gave me a quick hug, letting the Olympics coach congratulate me. Coach DiCello immediately wanted to examine my hands and wrists. I hadn’t expected a hand landing and wasn’t wearing wrist braces. Bearing the impact of about ten times your body weight when you come out of a high flip like that can be murder on the wrists. She immediately wrapped them and used a brace because I still had my p-bar routine to go.
It took forever for my score to come up. It seemed there was quite a discussion going on among the judges. When they finally settled down, my scores were 0/0/0.
I’d been disqualified!
The coaches immediately went to the judges table to protest and appeal the decision. I had not done a roll-out. It had not been a 1.5/1.5 Thomas Salto as I’d rotated 2.5 and twisted 1.5. The coaches argued that the difficulty score should have been increased to a level I (the most difficult element) and that I had done it flawlessly. The judges, in principle, agreed, but said the move was a clear violation of the intent of the rules. The decision to disqualify me stood.
I was not only off the podium, I was last in the competition.
Fuck!
I didn’t have time to really let it soak in, because I had to get to my p-bar routine. Unfortunately, Coach’s assessment of my wrists was accurate and I was in pain through the entire routine. Even though I fought through it, I simplified my dismount to save my wrists, and that dropped my score enough to leave me with another fourth place finish.
When I finally got off the floor and collected my possessions, I found I had a flood of text messages on my phone. I think everyone I knew personally had sent me a message expressing outrage at the judging and congratulating me on a routine that was near perfect and should have been awarded a gold medal.
Nice. Thank you. Wish you were judging.
The message from Tara was simply a crying emoji.
Well, I’d sent her enough of those in my life.
I did not stay in LA after the event. Wednesday were the rings and pommel horse finals, and I had no desire to watch them. I gave my silver medal to my parents, kissed them and my sister goodbye, and flew back to Florida. When I got there, I quietly packed up my dorm room and my massage room into my car. There wasn’t any reason for me to stay at the academy. Coach DiCello had made it clear that I needed to find a new venue to continue my training. I just wasn’t interested. It was so unfair.
If they’d said I’d blown the element and awarded no points, I’d have been mad, but I would have understood. I had blown the element. My tariff sheet said a double with a one-and-a-half out. I’d recovered, but the resulting move wasn’t technically in the code of points. I would have needed prior approval for it and a judgment of how difficult it was before the competition.
But to disqualify me entirely based on it being a derivative of a banned element just wasn’t right.
I was someplace near Atlanta when I pulled into a motel. It advertised a pool on its sign and vacancy. They told me the pool closed at ten, but it was only a little after nine, so I put on my Speedo and headed outside to it. It seemed there were a lot more bugs than in Florida, but I didn’t really use a pool much while I was at the academy. We always swam in the Gulf. Well, the bugs wouldn’t bother me in the water. I jumped in and began swimming laps.
There were a couple of other guests at poolside and some kids playing in the shallow water. I stayed clear of them and just swam laps up and down the pool, using the water to wash away my tears. I stopped when a guy shouted at me at the end of the pool. I looked up.
“It’s ten. We’re closing the pool,” he said. “You need to get out now.”
“Oh. Okay. Sorry.”
“You a professional swimmer?”
“No. I just needed the exercise.”
“Forty-five minutes of laps is a lot of exercise.”
“Maybe I’ll sleep tonight,” I said. I got out of the pool and looked around. A couple of parents were herding their kids back toward their rooms. I grabbed my towel and hotel key and went to my own room.
I stayed there a couple of days, trying to figure out what the hell I was doing. The route I’d taken was one that would eventually get me up to Minneapolis, but I didn’t want to shuffle into the city and ask my parents to take care of me. I had a pretty sizable bank account now. I didn’t really have much to spend money on. My sponsors had awarded me sizable bonuses for each medal I’d brought home in the past three years. I hadn’t really dated much. I still drove the same Chevy my parents bought me when I graduated from high school. I never thought much about clothing because I never went anyplace but the gym or the beach. And I’d had my expenses covered by sponsors. I’d earned money by giving massages.
Between finding appropriate food and swimming to keep fit, I researched places and found a national chain of fitness centers that seemed to have a good spread of locations and various degrees of gym spaces. There was one not far from the motel where I was staying, so I went over for a tour.
“Are you looking for a place as a trainer?” was the first question the club manager asked. “If you’ve got experience, we could probably use you.”
“I was actually looking for a place where I could train and exercise as I travel around the country. I know I look strong, but I’m not a weight trainer. I’m a gymnast.”
“We don’t have a gymnastics area in our club,” the manager said.
“I know. I’ll have to search out gymnastic clubs while I’m traveling across the country. It’s just important for me to have a place where I can work out for a couple of hours each day and that has nice facilities and amenities,” I said.
“We have that. Two hours of workouts and you don’t lift weights? I’d like to see your workout.”
“Happy to show you. I’m still designing the routine I’ll use as I’m traveling. It involves a lot of bodyweight training and floor work.”
“Got your gear? Let’s get you set up. I’ll even arrange to let the next club on your route know you’re coming.”
That was cool. I grabbed my bag out of the car and followed the guy on a tour of the facilities. It was nice and I especially liked that they had a sauna and hot tub. I’d gotten used to using those at the academy. Unfortunately, they didn’t have an ice bath. When I’d been through his orientation, I changed into a working uniform and began my routine with stretches and warmups. If I was on a two session a day gymnastic workout, I’d spend more time than the half hour I used getting warmed up. Then I started with my bodyweight routines. This club didn’t have a peg board, which was too bad, but it did have a regular chinning bar. Like most fitness clubs, the bar had a platform so people could adjust how much of their bodyweight they were lifting. I put it on zero, jumped just slightly, and started underhand pull-ups. Those are the ones with the palms facing the body and develop the biceps and latissimus dorsi muscles.
I think he was a little surprised that I stopped at twenty-five, but then I switched to neutral grip pull-ups and did twenty-five of those. The neutral grip is with palms facing away about shoulder width apart. Finally, I did twenty-five wide grip pull-ups, which are hands wider apart, palms facing away. This is the position I use for doing waist-high pull-ups. He was really surprised when I did twenty-five pull-ups that went beyond the chin and up to the waist. By that time several people had gathered around to watch me just doing pull-ups.
I was specifically targeting my upper body that morning, so my next move was to use one of their yoga mats on the floor and do a handstand. I took a Japanese handstand position first, my hands spread wide apart as I lifted my body up. In the Japanese handstand, the top of your head is supposed to be a hand’s breadth away from the floor. I moved to and held several different positions from that stance, then moved my hands in to the more common shoulder-width handstand. Once I was there, I started doing push-ups. I had to admit that after this, my wrists were really sore and I realized I probably did some damage to them when I landed that move at the Olympics.
I asked to use one of the hardwood floor rooms where they typically do things like dance aerobics, Zumba, yoga, and other such classes. For me, it was time for a limited leg workout. I started by simply making several circuits of the room in a squat position, thrusting my legs out and pulling myself forward. Then, because I thought the people watching deserved to see something gymnastic, I did a few single saltos in front and back rotations with pike, tuck, and layout positions. I wasn’t going to do any multiples or more than a half-out without a sprung floor and a higher ceiling.
I’d been working for nearly two hours when I left the floor and said I thought I’d take a swim for a while and use the hot tub. The manager thanked me for the demonstration and gave me a schedule of when the hardwood floors were available. I told him I thought I’d stay in town for a few more days before I decided where to head next.
When I got back to my motel, I got a bucket full of ice and a couple of plastic bags. I wrapped my wrists in ice and just flopped on my bed for a nap.
I wouldn’t say I’m a particularly social guy. But I really missed all the people chatting and showing off at meals at the academy. And Sunday trips to the beach.
Friends, I guess. It took me until I’d been gone a few days to realize that when I left the academy, I left all my friends behind, without even saying goodbye. Once I finished my workout for the day, I was at a loss for what to do. I took some long walks and went to see local sights. I found different restaurants to eat in that had reasonably healthy food—a little rare in the Southeast. And I spent time in my hotel room or in the pool, letting tears just run out of my eyes. I wasn’t sobbing or anything. I didn’t even know for sure why my eyes were leaking like they were. When it got to be too much, I swam and washed them away.
I told the health club manager I’d be leaving the next weekend and thought I’d drive north. He suggested that I find a place in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, as he knew the manager of the club there. I was easily influenced, so said that I’d stop there in a day or two.
And that began my days of wandering.
I kept my parents and Mikey up-to-date on where I was and what I was doing. When I called Mikey Saturday to wish her happy birthday, she yelled at me for leaving LA so abruptly before she’d had a chance to tell me she was pregnant and I was going to be an uncle in January. Mom was mostly concerned for my safety and wanted to make sure I was driving carefully and staying in reputable places. I was, mostly. Throughout the south, cheap motels had swimming pools.
Dad was the practical one and asked about my finances and whether I could afford to take this kind of ‘time off.’ I wasn’t sure what I was taking time off of. I guess, just life. Then he suggested that I consider stopping up there in Minneapolis and taking a plane somewhere if what I was doing was trying to get my head on straight. That actually sounded like a good idea, if I had enough money. I told him I’d consider it.
I didn’t hurry, though.
From Winston-Salem, I headed up to the DC area. I stayed far enough out of town that I could find a motel cheap enough for my budget—no pool—and a gym nearby. It was also the first place I located a real gymnastics training center and when I called, they were more than willing to have me come to spend a week training and giving classes or coaching. I was close enough to the nation’s capital, though, that I could take a little time and go sightseeing.
I got all the way to Boston, staying in cheap motels near the local club and keeping up with my workouts. I got into another training center for a week in Massachusetts with much the same terms. I could train and get advice from their coaches, if I’d also give some training master classes to their students. It worked out well.
I called Lena to see if I could visit the girls in Montreal, but she said they’d just moved out to the Los Angeles area to join a show there. They were really enjoying their circus work after having won their world championship in women’s group acrobatic gymnastics the previous year. I started considering whether I should start to focus more on being an acrobat. I was doing a lot of acrobatics in my workouts, just to stay fit.
I went to Stroudsburg, PA, Niagara Falls, and Pittsburgh. From there, I went to Indianapolis, and from Indy, I plotted a course through Chicago, Milwaukee, and back to Minneapolis.
Great timing. I’d been wandering from club to club and seeing the sights I never had time for before. I’d been gone from the academy for five months and had visited a dozen other training centers and another dozen fitness clubs. It was cold in Minneapolis, but I had a good place to stay. I decided I’d stay there at least until Mikey’s baby was born. If she’d looked in LA like she did at Christmas, I would have known instantly there was a little one on the way. She looked like a nudge would cause her to explode.
I talked to the manager of the health club in Minneapolis and they agreed to let me offer massage in the club. They wanted fifty percent of the take for providing space. I agreed and set my price at $90. That seemed to be in line with what was being charged for most therapeutic massage in the area. I settled in for the worst of the winter.
Mikey’s baby was born the 23rd of January. She named the little girl Polly Jeanette and everyone immediately started calling her PJ. Mikey confided that Polly was a nod to her baby’s uncle—me—that didn’t call attention to the fact as ‘Paula’ would do.
“It doesn’t seem fair to saddle a baby with the name of someone who was always picked on in school and never amounted to much out of school,” I said.
“Her uncle is an Olympic athlete,” Mikey defended herself—and me, I guess. “And I’m very proud of him.”
“Thank you. It’s been hard to think of myself as having ever been to the Olympics. I was disqualified.”
“That was rubbish. Your act was perfect.”
“Not really,” I said. “I didn’t think they’d disqualify me for it, but the move I did was accidental. It wasn’t on my tariff sheet. I was supposed to land on my feet. I thought they might deduct as much as half a point, but it was a shock to be disqualified.”
“What are you going to do next, Paul?” She got PJ changed and handed her to me to hold while she slept.
“I don’t know for sure. Dad suggested that since I’m traveling around, I should travel to other countries, too. I’ve got a few acquaintances I’ve made over the years in competition. I thought I’d start contacting them to get a month or two of training with their coaches to see what else I can learn.”
“That sounds like a great idea. Where would you go first?” she asked.
“I thought I’d start in Japan and go from there. I’m not sure how much money I’ll have to live on when I take off. Without the massages I do, I don’t have much of any income.”
“Your sponsors all dried up?”
“Not completely. One equipment manufacturer has kept me on a retainer. After all, I’ve got a couple of National Championships in addition to an Olympic Silver. I’m supposed to do a series of advertising photos for them next month. That will be a quick trip to Chicago for the photos. Then I’ll come back here and plan to take off again in March.”
“Just come back as often as possible,” Mikey said, giving me a hug and taking PJ from my arms. “We want PJ to always know her uncle.”
An advantage of flying to Chicago for the photo shoot was having a week in the manufacturer’s gym to work on the equipment, and extra time I could spend at the local training center where I’d been just a few weeks earlier. Lest you think there are no gymnastic training centers in the US, let me say that nearly every state has at least one. I’d visited several over the past few months.
Most, however, were focused on children and teens gymnastics. If they had a team they trained for competition, it was usually only girls. More and more universities had expanded into men’s gymnastic programs, but there is a significant difference between the level of NCAA gymnasts and elite gymnasts. It mostly had to do with how many hours a day they could practice. More than about seven or eight hours of active practice could be detrimental. But it often took ten to twelve hours in the gym to get the seven or eight active hours. College kids just didn’t usually have the time to devote to the sport.
I worked on the equipment for a week before we actually got to the shoot. They had custom outfits they wanted me to wear that declared a team name as if they were launching a professional gymnastics team. I didn’t mind. The gig paid well and I’d wear their team outfit wherever I trained and competed.
When I returned to Minneapolis, I made calls and got my ticket to Japan.
There are a few individual sports that accept the possibility of an athlete having different coaches at different times or for different reasons. Some team sports have that as well. When I was working for the basketball team in Minneapolis, I found that half the players were headed overseas to play for teams in other countries during a more traditional basketball season.
Gymnasts, figure skaters, runners and other field sports often spent time with a trainer for a specific purpose. A figure skater who is doing well, for example, might go to a skating rink in another country for as much as a year, just to work with a coach who could improve their spins.
I contacted Mr. Kimura in Osaka. I’d first met him at a competition in Japan a couple of years before and renewed our acquaintance at the Olympics. He’d invited me to come to Japan and he would improve my rings work. His athlete at the Olympics won the rings apparatus final. He helped me find a place to stay when I visited.
“Mr. Kimura sensei,” I said when I arrived. “Thank you for agreeing to teach me for a while.”
“Yes. Welcome to Japan. We will improve your rings and teach you to control your floor exercise. Come to the training room.”
It sounds more abrupt than it felt. I’d found the family with which I was staying and they had helped me get settled, fed me, and showed me how to reach the gym. Mr. Kimura was as eager as I was to get started. I didn’t expect to start where I did.
He took me to a weight room and started me with back fly lifts. I lay face down on a bench and lifted forty-pound dumbbells with my arms outstretched until I had them above the plane of my shoulders. I’d done very little with weights during my years of training, as it was considered to be too much muscle isolation for gymnastics. Mr. Kimura considered my upper back and shoulders too weak for ‘real’ work on the rings. We went from back fly to standing row and half a dozen other upper back and shoulder lifts. By the time I was finished, I was sorer than I’d been in ages.
That’s saying something. People don’t realize how brutal gymnastics can be. They see the final product and at most say, “That looks dangerous. What if he falls?” But they never stop to consider that a gymnast does fall—almost as often as he succeeds. We use extra levels of pads beneath us, so that when we fall flat on our chests or our backs, it only jars every bone in our bodies rather than breaking them.
In my first afternoon session, I felt like an absolute novice on the rings. My muscles were still exhausted, but that didn’t mean Mr. Kimura went easier on me. It was the most grueling session I think I’d ever had.
Nor was he content to work me only on the apparatus he specialized in. He had a staff who took me all the way back to basics on all the other apparatuses. When I returned to my hosts’ house, they smiled at me, fed me, and sent me to bed. I was out like a light.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
